A man named Carlisle
by scribe4hire
Summary: AH. Overwhelmed by the thought of trying to emulate the 'tour de force' performance of Hollywood Legend Carlisle Cullen in a theatre revival, actor Edward Cullen flees. But as Esme Cullen tells Edward, beneath it all, Carlisle was just a man


SM OWNS ALL THINGS TWILIGHT. STORYLINE IS MINE

**EDWARD POV**

"_The hunt continues tonight for actor Edward Masen, who was last seen in London's West End almost a week ago, following rehearsals for the much anticipated revival of My Sweet Addiction, the new play he and his wife, Hollywood star Bella Swan are set to debut next month. Whilst there have been unconfirmed sightings of the thirty five year old star, both here in England and the United States over the last week, fears have been raised over his mental state. As theatre sources and co-stars revealed, that rehearsals had been 'unsatisfactory'. This worrying new information, last night led police to admit, that they are becoming seriously concerned for Masen's safety. This is the not the first time that this production has made headlines however, as it was during its original opening here in the West End in 1985, that_ _legendary actor Carlisle Cullen_..."

"Excuse me sir, would you like anything else?" the pretty young waitress asked politely in heavily accented English.

"What? No..." he snapped rudely. Her interruption had meant that he had missed seeing the rest of the news report that he had watched every hour, on the hour. The report where he saw Bella, looking pale, exhausted and heartbroken, plead desperately for him to get in touch, to call her, to call his agent, their friends, anyone, just to say he was ok. Where he saw a genuinely concerned Esme Everson, Carlisle Cullen's wife, co star in the original production of My Sweet Addiction and Hollywood living legend, tell him;

" This play, any part, is not worth destroying your real life over Edward. When the applause has stopped and they've turned off the lights, when it's just you, you realise pretty damn quick, that it's your friends, your family, your Bella that are important, that are what you need, not another award, or good review "

Whilst the actor in me wanted me to scream that that, was easier for her to say, as she looked at her four Academy Awards, Emmy and Tony award. The confused, exhausted and terrified man knew she was right. Especially, about my poor Bella. What the hell I was doing to her? What the hell was I doing, sitting in a cafe just outside Voltera in Italy?

I had only the vaguest recollection of the night I had left. Rehearsals had been embarrassingly, soul destroyingly bad...for me. Bella, had nailed scene after scene, capturing and emoting perfectly, Jane Monro's inner turmoil as she watched the love of her life Leo, be slowly destroyed by the conventions of society that kept him apart from '_his reason for living, and the light in the hellish darkness that was his world without her.' _

It was me. I had been off book from the start. Determined to repay the trust Esme Everson had placed in me, by allowing me to produce and star in My Sweet Addiction. After what had happened during her and Carlisle's performance, Esme had brought all rights to the production and refused, despite some incredible financial inducements to let it be performed, or used in any type of media. Being quick to drag into court, anyone who tried to object. In fact, apart from appearances to benefit her domestic abuse charity, the only place Esme was seen, was in court, protecting both her and Carlisle's image and reputation.

I had been stunned, when she had called me in person, to grant my request. Whilst I had had achieved impressive success in what really was compared to some, short time, I knew that I would not be regarded as more than a 'pretty face' until I had at least attempted the theatre. When Bella had voiced a similar feeling, I knew there was only play I could see us doing. One part I was desperate to play.

But whilst I knew the every word, had every cue and movement perfectly blocked. My performance had been mechanical, wooden, soulless, dead. Everything Leo Malone...everything Carlisle Cullen wasn't. And despite hours of rehearsal with the company, with Bella, I couldn't change it. I didn't, couldn't _feel_ anything. Carlisle Cullen's performances as Leo Cole had been described as a 'tour de force' re-establishing him as not only one of the greatest actors of his generation, but ever.

People had tried to tell me that his performance had been so convincing because he was older than me. Had a life of incredible highs and crushing lows to draw from. For the six years before Sweet addiction, the six years between his divorce and remarriage to Esme Carlisle had been known more for the tumultuous, alcoholic life style than his work. And at the time of Sweet Addiction, he had not long been out of rehab. But as I had studied the precious twenty minutes of footage a cultural television documentary crew had captured of that performance, I had seen, felt him convey something more.

"Christ" I groaned running my hands roughly through my already messy hair.

I had to move from where I was, and soon. Despite my glasses and hat, or maybe because of them, the waitress and a few other people had gone from looking at me thinking 'it can't be him' to 'I swear it bloody well is you know'. If I thought the press and public attention I received was bad before, it was nothing to what I knew was awaiting me when I finally did show my face. I was a wanted man, a hunted man. But, if the press and public couldn't have me, they could and would attack my Bella.

"I'm so sorry baby." I whispered to the image of Bella flickering on TV screen mounted on the wall of the cafe where I was sitting. Paranoia and confusion had made me abandon my laptop and cell phone. I hadn't known, still didn't know what I hoped to achieve by running away from everything. All I knew, was that I needed space and time, to think and that I couldn't do that, if I had any links to the outside world.

I had one credit card, although I had not had to use it yet. As a search of my pockets when I had emerged from my self induced alcoholic stupor, revealed I had drawn out large amounts of cash on the other three, before I assumed, dumping them. I had truly no idea where I had been heading. And yet, I had come round two days ago, in the small loft apartment in Voltera that my mother had owned when she was an art student. I had been thrilled to be able to quietly buy it back for her, shortly before she died. Not even Bella knew of its existence.

I was trapped in a hell of my own making, and I had no bloody idea how to even start, trying to get out of it. I wasn't ready to go home yet, to face the world, I knew that much. And I couldn't stay here for much longer. My confusion and my desperate need to have some sight, some sound of Bella meant that I was venturing out more. All it would take, was for one sharp eared or eyed fan to notice something. I had already seen a few people give me strange looks that had nothing to do with my mangled Italian, when they heard me speak. Apparently, I was up there with George Clooney as having one of the most recognisable and seductive voices on screen.

But where the hell could I go? I knew it was only luck, that had stopped the police and whoever else Bella and my manager Jasper had looking for me, from finding me yet. And who could I talk to, that would understand my need for a bit more time to try and sort out my feelings myself, before they shipped me off the team of doctors and shrinks I knew where waiting for me.

Scrabbling in my pockets for the necessary bills to pay for the three lattes and pastry I had consumed, my hand came into contact, with a heavy piece of paper, which as I removed it from my pocket gave off a faint scent of Chanel.

Esme Everson's scent.

_Edward,_

_Whilst I have every faith in you and Bella, I know there WILL come a time you will need to talk to me. I know you have all my office numbers and e-mails, but here is my personal cell_

_555-690547992_

_EExx_

It took me twenty minutes to locate a payphone and work out how to use it, but finally I was listening to a strangely comforting dial tone.

"Hello?" her voice was understandably wary, receiving a call from an unknown foreign number.

What the hell did I say?

"Edward...Edward is that you sweetheart?" Esme asked gently, her voice full of genuine concern. I couldn't hold back the rough, tearful gasp that escaped me.

"Esme...you were right. I need to talk...please help me Esme." I choked.

Unknown to me, Esme was at her Villa on Lake Como when I had called. She found peace in the more relaxed way of life and relief, from her sometimes crippling arthritis, in the climate. It had taken less than two hours for her to arrive on my doorstep.

Her once famous willowy figure, was now a little rounded and stooped with age, whilst the tumbling mane of dark curls had been cropped close and was losing a little of its lustre. But Esme still radiated that captivating allure of beauty and power, unique to stars of her generation. Especially when she unleashed the full power behind those dark eyes, as she was doing now. And they were not, as I had feared, full of anger, judgement, or even pity, just genuine, almost motherly concern and understanding, which had reduced me to a sobbing wreck within a minute of her stepping through the door.

She didn't say a word, simply wrapped me in a surprisingly tight hug and held me whilst I sobbed, her hand gently stroking my hair.

"Oh Edward, you are more like Carlisle than you realise." She had sighed wistfully, holding my face in her perfectly manicured hands. My snort of laughter had echoed embarrassingly loud in the small room, causing Esme to raise a perfectly arched brow.

"My blue eyed boy was many things Edward, a damn fine actor, a good man, a kind man, my husband, father to my children, my friend, my lover, my protector, my biggest fan. He was also, a selfish man, a cruel man, a womaniser, a liar, a compulsive gambler, a drunk. But he was just, despite all the glitter, all the praise, the money, the crazy shit that almost destroyed both our lives, a man Edward. And, my poor Carlisle never truly knew a moments peace, until he realised that." Esme said quietly, passionately. Her eyes had filled with a million different emotions, as she had spoken of the man she had publicly declared to be her soul mate.

"He let go of the demons that haunted him. Became the man who had become an actor because he enjoyed it, because he loved language, words, was desperate to share that with an audience. He became a man who realised that there was more than his career in his life, realised that I was in his life because I truly love him..." she whispered roughly.

"I wish, I wish I could have had the chance to ask him just how he did that." I sighed.

For a long moment, Esme looked around the shamefully messy apartment, both to try and compose herself, and also judging by the frown line that formed between her brows, think on my words.

"Maybe there is." She said softly.


End file.
